The Trials of the WitchQueen
by Astarel
Summary: The Queen of the Lilim is challenged to a contest, where the prize is the burning heart of a star. But when the challenges get darker and more dangerous, she finds herself squandering her power and destroying her kingdom.
1. Chapter 1

**A story about Lamia's past. This explores deeper into how Carnardine was destroyed- by Lamia's own pride. Also, how she squandered away all her magic to become a decrepit crone by the time of 'Stardust'. Please, review! This will be a short series of about five parts.**

_Chapter One:_

Lamia sat upon her throne in Carnardine. Immortal life was good in many ways, but the boredom was too much to bear. Her power was beyond comprehension, and she could do anything she wished with the lazy flick of a finger. She could destroy her entire universe and stitch it together again with her breath, or turn the white moon into cheese.

Then, one day, a stranger arrived at the queen's court. She wore a dark cowl, and equally black robes of raven feathers and the shadows of ginger cats; her face was shrouded beneath a dark cloud, and her skin was as pale as starlight.

"Welcome, sister," said Lamia with little enthusiasm. The little slut probably wanted to learn power, or cantrips from her; they all did. "What can I help you with? Turning lead into gold? Stealing the shadow from a winter flower?"

The dark woman did not look up as she spoke. "No, Lady. I have come to challenge you to a contest."

Lamia's interest was aroused. The wench thought that she could beat her in a game of magic? She would greatly enjoy teaching her a lesson of humility, and perhaps would have some fun in the lesson.

"You challenge me?" she laughed, not unkindly. She would humor the chit, she decided then, and rose from her gilded throne. "And what do they call you?"

"You may call me Khynar," she said quietly. "Do you accept or no?" She said the words like an ultimatum; the hall became oddly still, and the air crackled with the sound of distant autumn leaves. Lamia's subjects all fell silent- no one had ever crossed the queen and lived.

"Of course, sister," replied she, cordially. "What is your game?"

"A test of skill," said the other woman. "I have prepared a set of three puzzles for your Majesty. You only need solve each of them, in turn; then I shall grant you this."

Then she reached into her dark dress, and pulled out a silk pouch. The cloth glowed with liquid moonlight, and around its neck was a string of threaded bone; the witch-woman pointed her finger, and the thread unfurled. The pouch opened gently, and starlight flowed from its mouth.

"The heart of a star," she said simply.

Lamia was in utter shock. Never had a star fallen into her realm, for they were wary of her and her kin. Their golden hearts were proof against all age and time- only one bite would ensure her youth for all the Ages of the world.

She wanted to take it from her, then and there. She would turn her into a goat, and slice her neck with blood running; then spill her guts for shaming her like this. But she could not harm the witch; she had agreed to her terms, and would follow or lose her magic.

"I agree," Lamia spat. "Let it begin!"

Khynar merely nodded, and motioned for Lamia to follow. They left the court – the giant doors swung out by the force of the latter's mind and anger – and entered the glorious, sunlit courtyard. Every flower and herb in the universe grew in the gardens of the Lilim, those queens of paradise; they would use the pretty, delicate things for their ointments and beauties, and the black and venomous for their poisons and venoms.

The dark one pointed her finger at one of the pebbles on the ground. A moment later, a giant boulder stood in the center of the grass, dominating the surroundings with its size. A hole was upon its left side, and another upon its right.

"You must take this thread," said Khynar, holding a long silk in her hands that had not been in existence just a moment before. "And pass it from one side to another. That is all."

Lamia wanted to laugh at her impudence. Such a simple task, for a prize so great. The witch-queen took the silk, and walked towards the stone.

She fed the cloth into the left-hole, already wary for some sting or poisonous bite. But there was no trickery; she lowered the silk into the opening, and carefully pushed in the rest of it. The passage was completely clear; she could even see the garden light through the opposite side.

Satisfied, Lamia stuffed in the remaining silk and moved to the other side.

But the red cloth was completely absent from the stone. It had seemingly evaporated into thin air; Lamia turned angrily to Khynar, who only smiled.

"What trickery is this?" she demanded, voice rising. Fire flickered through the grass like butterflies, personifying her anger with belching smoke and glowing embers.

"Nothing but your own failure and pride," Khynar replied. She reached out into Lamia's hair, where a ribbon of red silk had tied itself into the black.

The witch-queen's face flushed with anger. "Give me that! I shall try it again, and succeed."

Again and again, Lamia tried; and again and again, she failed. The thread would not allow itself to weave the stone; it would dart out of her hands at the last moment, and bind her hands. Once, it slithered up her arms and into her mouth, tying her tongue. When the sun began to sink beneath the ocean, Lamia was utterly exhausted, and still in failure. All the time, Khynar only watched and waited.

Finally, she could take no more. The witch-queen threw the ribbon upon the grass, where it burst into emerald flames and was reduced to cinders. "No more of this!" she declared. "You are a lying and cheating slattern. There is no way through this stone."

Khynar walked forward – another silk had appeared in her palms – and picked up an ant from the grass. She was very gentle, as she tied the ribbon to one of its legs, and whispered quiet encouragement into its tiny ears.

Then she let it into the hole. The ant, a living creature with eyes and ears, could easily avoid the twists and turns in the passage. The ribbon could not move, bound as it was, one end tied firmly onto the creature and the other reeled into the stone by the witch.

Finally, after only a minute, the ant emerged from the other hole. Khynar carefully untied it, whispered her thanks, and let it free into the grass. The creature had masterfully woven the silk through the stone.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lamia asked, more curious than angry now. The woman had a mystifying air about her, that was growing more pronounced as the evening drew on.

"I want you to learn, Lamia," she replied. "About the power of others. That is all.

"We are done here," she said. As the shadow of night wrapped the garden, the stone disappeared, and the silks melted into perfume and air. "I shall see you tomorrow morning."

And then she was gone. The witch-queen stood dazedly in the garden, before finally retreating back into her palace. Khynar intrigued her, and she would allow her game to continue for a time.

For a time. And then she would have her heart, and that of the star.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two:_

In the morning, Lamia appeared in the courtyard of her palace in a shower of red sparks. She wore a scarlet kirtle, and her black hair was tied neatly behind her head. The Witch-Queen wore an expression of grim determination, as she stalked towards the other woman – she was determined not to be tricked again.

Khynar nodded as she passed. In either hand, the witch wielded a long blade of volcanic glass, the surfaces of the knives glistening, as though with blood, in the bright light. Lamia shuddered as Khynar handed her one of the knives, its glass wickedly cool even in the heat of the sun.

"The second task," she said simply. "For the heart of a star."

With the other blade, Khynar gestured at the lake. There was a shivering and shuddering as the black knife channeled her spell, drawing together and pulling apart the water. A moment later, it was not a lake but a perfect mirror.

Lamia walked over to its flawless surface, admiring her own perfect reflection. Somehow, the glass seemed to increase her own beauty, casting starlight in her black hair and causing her eyes to twinkle seductively. She stood, transfixed for several moments before Khynar spoke again.

"You must use the knife to separate the surface of the lake," she said calmly. "If the mirror has been cleft into a perfect half by the time the sun reaches the top of the sky, then you have succeeded."

Lamia nodded, the faintest traces of an ugly snarl on her face. She walked gingerly on the surface of the lake, as though expecting it to crack; but it was as strong as iron beneath her weight. She moved to the perfect center of the lake, and raised the knife high above her head. She thrust with the strength of all her unnaturally long life, using sword and spell to shatter the mirror –

And then as she looked down, she faltered.

Her own face was staring at her, utterly flawless. Her skin seemed to catch and drink in the rays of the sun, becoming as brilliant as the star she sought, while her teeth gleamed and sparkled. Her hair was long and lustrous, their shade of black darkening until it was greater than night itself. It was so beautiful, and the Witch-Queen could not bring herself to destroy it.

She let go of the blade. It clattered to the floor, with a loud clinking of glass, but Lamia did not notice. She sat down with a sigh, the silks of her kirtle flowing around her, and stared wistfully into the glass. Above her, the sun inched towards the preordained mark – but she was far too entranced by her own beauty in the magic mirror. She refused to destroy such a beautiful thing, and stared deep into its reflective depths, until at last, midday had come.

Khynar had not moved a muscle since the beginning of the task, and had stared at Lamia with cold eyes for the last six hours. As she had expected, the Witch-Queen had failed.

Clearing her throat loudly, she approached Lamia, who did not stir from her trance. Only after she tapped the other woman's shoulder with her blade, did the shrew awake from her own pride. She seemed shocked, and blinked furiously as she rose unsteadily to her feet.

"What?" she asked groggily. "I have not yet finished the task… let me…"

She picked up the blade and swiped half-heartedly at the mirror. It bounced harmlessly off its hard surface, and Lamia dropped the sword again. She ambled towards it, but Khynar sharply cut off her movements with a spell.

"You have failed," she said. "Again."

Lamia seemed enraged, and awaking from her stupor, conjured a bright green flame on her fingertip. She advanced on the other woman, black smoke hissing from the flames; but Khynar blew at them mildly, and they were extinguished.

"There are no limits to your trickery!" exclaimed the Witch-Queen. "Your tasks are foul and cheating. Even your magic is petty."

"The task was fair," countered Khynar. "It was your pride that prevented you from breaking your own reflection."

Lamia hissed, and a tongue of flames rushed from her mouth. They dissipated harmlessly on an invisible field of crackling power that had suddenly engulfed the other witch, who with a flick of her finger, sent Lamia's mouth flying shut.

She glared in protest, but could not speak as Khynar moved forward again.

"One task remains. You have to but pass this one, single test to earn the heart. Be ready," she finished, flicking her finger. The mirror collapsed, again taking on the freedom of water; but she and Lamia were already standing on the opposite shore.

"One task," she said, and then was gone.

The Witch-Queen sucked in a breath of air. The petty witch's game had gone too far… when they met again the next morning, she would not be alone.

She raised her hands in the air, twisting the power of nature to her own blackness; and then with a great cry and burst of emerald flames, the Witch-Queen shouted,

"MORMO! EMPUSA!"


End file.
